At the agency, Natasha and Robert were already suited up in their sleek spy gear, preparing for a confidential meeting. Just as Natasha adjusted her earpiece, the door creaked open—and in walked Ruben.
Robert and Natasha jolted.
"Oh, shit… Why are you here early?" Natasha asked, eyes wide.
Ruben narrowed his gaze. "Are we on a mission?"
"We've got pending missions," Robert muttered, pulling off his gloves. "Aid was stolen, Paige is 'truly dead,' and someone's out to kill your boss."
Ruben dropped into a chair. "Yeah… you're right. But I still can't figure out who wants Nathan dead."
"That's not even the real question," Natasha said, crossing her arms. "The real question is why?"
Ruben tilted his head. "Fair… but where are you two going dressed like that?"
"We can't tell you right now," Natasha said sharply. "But if we need backup, we'll call."
Ruben's eyes wandered to the cell door. Something didn't feel right.
"Where's Simon?" he asked, his tone suddenly sharp.
"In the cell… why?" Robert replied, confused.
Ruben rushed over. When he opened the cell, a heavy silence fell.
"Shit…" Robert swore under his breath. "He's gone."
Meanwhile, Nathan was in the kitchen, gently placing a cup of tea on a tray. He took it to his grandmother's room, only to find her pulling dresses from the wardrobe—clothes scattered everywhere.
"Granny… what are you doing?" he asked.
"I need a new dress," said Kuku Veronica, holding up two hangers. "For your engagement, of course. Should I go to the store or just order something elegant?"
"Granny, relax," Nathan chuckled. "You've got plenty of dresses already."
"No," she insisted, pouring the tea. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment. I want it to be perfect."
She took a sip and paused. "Your tea tastes different these days."
Nathan tensed slightly. "Does it?"
Before she could say more, he diverted. "So, you're really going to the mall?"
"Yes, and stop being so overprotective. I'm not that old. My driver will take me, and I'll ask my soon-to-be daughter-in-law to join me."
"Alright, alright," Nathan said, kissing her forehead.
In the kitchen, Catty was pouring herself a glass of water when she spotted a packed lunchbox on the counter.
"Who's packing a lunch?" she asked.
"Mr. Nathan," a servant replied.
Catty raised a brow. "Nathan? Since when does he take a lunchbox?"
Upstairs, Nathan was adjusting his tie when Monica entered, holding out his phone.
"You left this with me last night," she said quietly.
He took it, sensing her mood. "Why the long face, kiddo?"
"You're getting married," she said, looking down. "You're leaving me."
"Hey…" Nathan stepped closer. "We talked about this. I'm not leaving you."
"I know," she said. "But you're marrying Catty. Something's off about her. She doesn't like her parents, and her feelings for you seem… fake."
"You don't like yours either," he teased.
"No, Nate. That's different. Ever since she came back from Spain, she just landed here and never left. The wedding is over—why is she still here?"
"You think she's hiding something?" he asked.
"Yes," Monica said flatly. "She doesn't even go home. And honestly… you don't love her."
Nathan hesitated. "I'm doing this for Granny… and maybe to get that damn flag off my door."
"Don't fool yourself. Kuku always says, 'You marry the one meant for you.' And I know Catty isn't it."
Nathan's mind flashed back to Vicky's kiss.
"…Maybe someone else is in my destiny," he murmured.
Monica's eyes lit up. "Really?! Who? Tell me—who's the lucky girl?"
"I'm joking!" he laughed, brushing it off.
Later at breakfast, the family was gathered around the table. Nathan joined them, dressed sharply.
"Now that we're planning the engagement," said Sofia, "I'll go get the planner—"
"No, Aunty," Catty cut in quickly. "Nate and I already discussed it, right babe?"
Monica glared at her, seething in silence.
"Yes," Nathan said, playing along. "I'll hire a professional planner myself. Don't worry."
"We must have it in full Shikongo style," Cinthia chimed in. "Although if a planner's handling it, we won't need a kids' section."
Nathan nearly choked on his juice. "What?! No—"
"Sister-in-law," Daniels smirked, "you better love kids like Nate does. Otherwise, the marriage won't last."
"She's not our daughter-in-law yet," Adam said coldly.
"Thanks, Dad. First time I agree with you," Monica snapped.
"My wife-to-be loves kids," Nathan said, forcing a smile toward Catty.
"Of course I do," she beamed. "That's why I'll make sure the planner includes something fun for them too."
"May you be blessed with many children," Kuku said warmly. "As many as your obsession with them."
Nathan glanced at the time.
"I'm late," he muttered, grabbing his bag.
"Late? It's only 7—wait, 7:01," Catty said. "You start at 9, don't you?"
"Wow… you know my schedule," Nathan replied. "Wife material points."
A servant handed him the lunchbox.
"You're taking food?" Monica laughed. "Since when?"
"I'll be home at 8 tonight. There's a business event after work."
"They provide food there," Cinthia noted.
"They do?" Nathan stammered.
"Nate, isn't that the lunchbox I—" Damien started.
Nathan cut in fast. "The one you brought yesterday—yes, Uncle, thanks for reminding me."
Monica picked up on his nerves.
"Why are you all questioning my brother?" she snapped. "Is it a crime to take food to work, Kuku?"
"No," Veronica said. "It's just rare for him."
"Let's go, brother," Monica said, linking her arm through his. "Before these detectives interrogate you."
They walked out together. Catty watched them go, suspicion bubbling beneath her smile.
"Thanks, kiddo," Nathan whispered.
"No thanks," Monica replied coolly. "We'll talk about this later."
She climbed into her car, Daniels behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, and they were gone.